


Codename: Bunny

by AlvaDomer



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Bunny Armin, Kenny is the rapist, Loss of Virginity, M/M, Pining Jean, Rape Aftermath, Rape Recovery, spy AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-29
Updated: 2016-09-29
Packaged: 2018-08-18 10:51:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,042
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8159555
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlvaDomer/pseuds/AlvaDomer
Summary: With Armin Arlert in the field and Jean Kirchstein acting as his eyes, they've always been a dangerously good team.Even the best falter.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Kurenai_Tenka](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kurenai_Tenka/gifts).



> This is for Kurenai_Tenka because I love her!!!!!! She is the best and deserves all the nice things!!!  
> This is my definition of nice, apparently lmao. Hope you enjoy!
> 
> PS personal update: guessss who's sick agaaaaain. Also sorry for taking so long to post anything, my grandfather passed away recently. I'm doing much better now tho!

               “Now stop. It's the door to your left.” Heart thudding against his rib cage, Armin pulled out the lock pick beneath his bunny ears. As he began unfolding it, Jean muttered into the ear piece, “Actually, turn a little to the left.”

               Armin quirked a brow. “Like this?” he asked, rotating his body accordingly.

               “A little moooooore aaaaand _perfect!_ ”

               “And you're _sure_  about this?” The last thing he needed was to spend all evening flirting in this ridiculous bunny costume, only to trip alarms in the wrong room. He hadn't been caught yet, but his ego wasn't big enough to believe his winning streak would last forever.

               “I'm sure your ass looks great in those fishnets.”

                _"Jean!_ ” Armin whispered harshly, pulling his yellow skirt down frantically. He glanced over his shoulder and saw that his ass was directed straight at one of the hacked security cameras. “You're an idiot,” he huffed, beginning to pick the lock.

               “But I'm your idiot,” Jean hummed in reply.

               Armin snorted and rolled his eyes. “You wish, Kirchstein.”

               He heard the lock suddenly click, and he grinned successfully. “Alright, I—”

               “Wait, wait, wait,” Jean cut in eagerly. “Let me say it.”

               Armin rolled his eyes again. “Go for it.”

               " _You’re in_ ,” Jean announced in his most dramatic ‘spy’ voice.

               “I can't believe you're my partner. Out of all the guys in the academy,” Armin grumbled as he slipped inside the room.

               “I can't believe you're complaining about having the sixth best in our class at your side.” Armin could _hear_ Jean smile and lean back smugly in his desk chair.

               Armin went straight for the enormous oak desk in the center of the study, ignoring the taxidermied eyes staring down at him. He began digging through drawers as he scoffed, “Yeah. Outranked by _Eren_.”

               Jean let out a wounded whimper, probably genuinely offended. Armin made a mental note to apologize later with ice cream. But he was always willing to say what he had to in order to shut Jean up.

               It was much easier to focus without his obnoxious pickup lines streaming endlessly into his ear. Armin’s eyes raked over every file, every scrap of paper in the desk, but no luck. If he could just find that ledger, the _real_  one, they'd be able to put one more human trafficker away for good. _I wonder how much of this he bought with money from selling people,_ he couldn't help but wonder, gaze trailing over the wood-paneled walls and vases lining the marble fireplace.

               As Armin searched, Jean tapped his pen against his desk to a beat. He looked over the different monitors in front of him, but all the halls leading to Armin were empty.

 _Who knew being a spy could be so boring,_ he thought, leaning his head into his hand. His eyes flitted back to Armin, bent over as he pawed through a bottom drawer.

               Jean swallowed. Armin's ass was in the air again, nothing but a narrow strip of yellow fabric running between his legs. He resisted the urge to whistle. _Piss him off too much and he won't bring me ‘I’m sorry’ ice cream._

               “I found something,” he suddenly whispered, and Jean perked up. Armin had removed everything from the drawer, pulling out a false bottom. A smile slowly split across Jean’s face. This part excited him every time.

               “What'd you find?” he asked eagerly, still staring more at Armin's thighs than the new discovery.

               “Looks like a button,” Armin replied. “Pressing it now.” With the way he said it, Jean tensed in preparation for an explosion. But a new drawer simply popped open on the side of the desk, and they gasped, “Yes!” in unison.

               “Is that the ledger?” Jean asked as Armin pulled a thick book from the secret compartment.

               “This is why you were sixth,” Armin snickered, and Jean felt a stab to his heart.

               “You're so cruel to me. Why must such a lovely rose have such vicious thorns,” he sobbed with his worst French accent. He felt a slight blush as Armin laughed, and then watched as his partner began taking pictures of each page. “Hurry up so you can come back to me,” Jean whined, but he was still beaming.

               “Take me to that taqueria once I'm back?” Armin asked, smiling as his camera clicked away.

               “Yeah, su—” Jean froze, grin falling from his lips. “Armin. Armin, get out of there.” He leaned forward, heart leaping into his throat. “Shit, Armin, I—” _I was looking at your ass,_  “I was looking at the wrong screens, I—shit, you need to go, now.”

               Armin was a flurry of motion, ledger back in its drawer before Jean could even blink. But the man was getting closer now, Armin was crossing the room but he wasn't fast enough, shit shit shit, he was going to be caught and it was all his fault, Armin…

               “Six foot one, maybe two, probably two-hundred-fifty pounds,” Jean rasped right as his partner reached the door.

 _Be ready for anything._ Without so much as a breath, Armin open the door. He looked down as if focused on smoothing his skirt, hoping whoever was approaching would just keep walking. But his luck has run out.

 _It’s him._  Armin's blood froze. Gaunt face, piercing eyes, neck-length black hair. He realized as he plastered on a sickeningly sweet smile, it was Kenny Ackerman. The man throwing the party. The man they were after.

               “I guess I'll have to keep searching for the bathroom,” Armin laughed, but Kenny’s knowing smile didn't change. “Um, backup a little? I want to head back downstairs,” he continued with a light chuckle, every nerve ablaze with fear.

               “Understood,” Jean answered curtly, laptop already in hand to join the extraction team.

               But Kenny didn't back away. In fact, he moved even closer, forcing Armin to step slightly back into the room. _What do I do what do I do what do I do?!_  “You're kind of creeping me out. Have you—”

               Kenny’s hand was at his throat before he could scream. Armin's hand flew for the gun that was barely concealed by his skirt, but the man seemed to guess his every move.

               “Oh, you're not getting this,” Kenny purred, ripping the pistol from Armin's desperate fingers. He was lifted into the room by his throat, door kicked shut with a loud, _bang!_ He dragged Armin all the way across the room, slamming him down on his back against the desk. “Give me one reason why I shouldn't kill you,” Kenny crooned as Armin glowered up at him, clawing at the man’s fingers.

 _Play along? No, fight,_  Armin decided in a heartbeat. He groped at the desktop wildly, wrapping his hand around a cool metal handle. “Get off of me!” he snarled as Kenny dodged the letter opener, scrambling away from the desk. “Backup, backup, I need backup _now!”_  Armin shouted hysterically as his own gun was aimed directly at him.

               “We’re on our way, Armin, you're going to be okay!” Jean sounded too near tears for that to be true.

               “Drop the knife, little bunny,” Kenny sang, and Armin's eye twitched. But he complied, kicking it across the floor as he slowly raised his hands.

               “Hurry, _please,”_  he begged beneath his breath.

               “Such a pretty voice!” Kenny gasped, and Armin scowled at him. _Wait for him to get close._ “Let me get a better look at you. It'd be a shame if that sexy body didn't have a face to match.”

 _I’m going to be sick._  Armin was used to playing the sex kitten, the boy almost too cute to be a sex object. But his stomach churned when he heard those words, slick as oil and heavy with intention. _Please Jean…_

               When Kenny approached, Armin let himself be pressed up against the wall. He closed his eyes as the silencer was shoved against his jaw. But he gasped when a knee forced its way between his legs. “You did not disappoint!” Kenny cried condescendingly. His voice dropped dangerously low. “Do you know how much I could make off of you?”

                _"Please,”_  Armin gasped. He didn't know if he was begging Kenny or Jean.

               “How old are you, sixteen?” Kenny continued with amusement. “The Corps can't be so desperate that they're sending little girls after me now,” he sneered, letting his hand join his knee between Armin’s legs. His eyes widened with realization. “Oh! Or little boys.”

               “Jean,” Armin whispered, “it was fun working with you.”

               “Whoa, whoa, no, Armin! We’ll save you, I promise! Just keep stalling! It'll be fine, I promise! We're—I’m on my way! Fuck, Armin, I—”

               But Armin wasn't listening to Jean anymore, focused only on the gun in front of him. One wrong move and there would be a bullet in his skull. He could hear his instructor now. _Just do it right the first time!_

               In a flash, he grabbed the gun barrel. At the same time, he drove the side of his hand into Kenny’s wrist with every ounce of force he had. He was already dodging when the bullet shot through the wall, but with Kenny’s leg between his knees, he stumbled.

               His heart was racing wildly, pistol back in his hand. But Kenny caught his shirt collar, throwing him onto the floor again.

               “You fucked up, kid,” Kenny snarled, but as he dropped to his knees, Armin rolled onto his back. He barely got the chance to draw back the hammer before Kenny was wrestling for the gun again.

               “I told you to get _off_ of me!” Armin roared back, kneeing the man in the balls. He wrenched his hand free but before he could climb to his feet, Kenny already had his ankle. Armin hit his head against the hardwood as he fell, stunned as Jean screamed his name in his ear.

               “How could I keep my hands off a pretty little thing like you,” Kenny cooed, putting the gun in the back of his pants. His normal smirk returned once he regained the upper hand. Armin could barely breathe. _He’s going to rape me._

               “W-wait, stop!” Armin's voice cracked as his vest was torn open, entire body trembling as he stared into Kenny’s hungry eyes. He didn't care how weak or pathetic he looked anymore. Armin was ready to say or do anything to escape this. “Please, please, I-I, I haven't—I’ve never—” Jean had laughed at him, mocked him for it so many times. But Kenny’s grin just grew bigger, eyes even brighter.

               “You're a virgin?” the man asked, voice rich with lust. “Then you should be begging for my cock. Be fucking thankful you're losing it to a man like me.”

               "N-no! Please, please I don't want to! I don't want this!” His throat was constricting with the need to cry, the words stuck in his vocal cords. “H-help! Help!” he shouted as a strip of cloth was torn from his clothes. He was forced onto his stomach, wrists tied tightly behind his back.

               “If you had just played along like a good little boy, I might've used spit,” Kenny sneered, laughing as Armin gasped fearfully.

               “No! No-no-no! Stop, _stop!”_  He was screaming now as he skirt was torn from his hips, bound hands twisting with the need to fight.

               “Yeah, keep begging me, just like that,” Kenny growled, forcing Armin's legs apart. _This isn't happening. It can't be real,_  Armin thought as he kicked fearfully.

               Then the fabric of his yellow leotard torn away, and he screamed even louder. “Help me! Jean, help me, _please!”_  he sobbed as Kenny ripped a hole in his tights. A tear rolled down his cheek as he watched the man unzip his slacks, pulling out his half-hard cock to give it a few quick strokes. “Jean! _Jean!”_

               “Mine’s going to be the only name on your lips,” Kenny taunted, sprawled out on top of Armin's body. Then he rammed forward violently.

               Armin swore he lost consciousness for several seconds. But when he came back to reality, he was _shrieking_. It felt like he was being torn apart, tears finally breaking free down his face. His whole body had erupted into flames, mind blank and tongue numb in agony.

               “JEAN! _JEAN!_  PLEASE! PLEASE, HELP ME!” The words flew from his lips but Armin couldn't remember thinking them. He begged and shrieked mindlessly as white fireworks went off in his eyes. It felt like his intestines had been completely shredded, ripped open like wet tissue. And he kept screaming, pleading, but Jean wasn't there.

               “It's okay, Armin, you're going to be okay,” Jean said weakly. But he was crying and Armin wasn't okay and it was all his fault.

               ” _Fuck,_ you've got the tightest little ass,” Kenny grunted, hips slapping noisily as he pistoned in and out of Armin. Blood was starting to pool on the floor.

               ” _JEAN! JEAN!”_  Armin kept on howling, forgetting everything else. There was nothing but pain and his partner. It was his partner’s job to stop the pain; to keep it from happening at all. So where was he? _It hurts so much._

               “How about you say my name for a change, sweetheart?” Kenny purred, digging his fist into Armin's hair. He jerked his head back, continuing to thrust as he dug his fingers into Armin's ear. “I think your boyfriend gets the idea,” he laughed, and then raised the earpiece up to his lips. “Consider this mission a failure,” he said sweetly, “thanks for the treat, though.”

               Then he crushed it.

…

               Jean rose from his chair, twitching anxiously. “H-how...how is he?” he asked as Mikasa left the on-site hospital room.

               “I should slit your throat and watch you suffocate right now,” was her monotone reply.

               Alright. So, not good. Jean wiped his sweaty palms on his pants. “U-um...anything else?” he asked, voice barely above a whisper.

               “The captain wants you down in interrogation. Who knows what for. Not like you can do your job,” Mikasa answered bluntly. “That's it. Unless that was too complicated and I need to repeat my—”

               “I get it,” Jean cut her off, meeting her gaze one last time. The amount of raw hatred in her eyes alone made his heart skip a beat. He had wanted to interrupt her and walk off like he didn't care how she was treating him.

               But the pure rage and pain on her face made him forget about being petty. His lower lip quivered dangerously and he rushed down the hall before he could find a way to make the situation even worse. He was always good at that.

               He crossed the facility as quickly as possible, but the captain looked even worse than usual. _Not that I blame him,_  he thought shamefully. The bags under Levi's eyes had gotten bigger, darker, more exhausted.

               “It's about time you got here,” Levi groaned, and Jean balked instantly. _Is he mocking me too?_  he wondered awkwardly, gripping his arm uncomfortably. “You gonna go in there or do I have to remind you how to interview a suspect, too?” _Alright,_ now _he's mocking me._ “He agreed to talk but only to you. You don't even have to say anything.” Levi folded his hands together and added patronizingly, “How easy is that?”

               “Easy enough, sir,” Jean replied tersely, his guts doing the tango. He knew what had happened, but hearing it told over was another thing entirely. _I already failed Armin once. I can't mess up another job._ It was just listening. He didn't have to ask any questions. It was more than he could ask of a suspect.

               He walking into the interrogation room.

               “I'm Special Agent Jean Kirch—” he didn't even get past his full name before Kenny was talking.

               “Oooh, so _you’re_ Jean,” he purred poisonously. “I have to thank you for sending such a sweet piece of ass my way.” Jean’s eye twitched. “Can you believe he'd never been tapped before? A crying shame I couldn't keep him for myself. Could've turned him into a real cockslut within a week.”

               Jean let out a growl. “Don't you fucking dare talk about Armin like that!” he snarled. Kenny just grinned.

               “Armin, huh? What a cute name. Oh, you should've seen him. He was obsessed with yours.” Kenny’s grin got even wilder as Jean’s eyes bulged. He put on a high, lilted voice. ” _Jean, oh Jean, make him stop!”_  he mocked, laughing heartily. “ _Jean, it hurts! Jean, where are you?_ Jean this and Jean that. Jean, Jean, Jean, it was all he could say. Wish you were there to see how he screamed and fought. He didn't give in as easily as I thought he would, I'll give him that.”

               “Shut the fuck up!” Jean snarled, slamming his hands on the table.

               “What's wrong, tough guy? Don't like hearing how I fucked your girlfriend?” he sneered. “You're here to interview me, right? I'll tell you everything you want to know.”

               “Fuck you,” Jean spat between gritted teeth.

               “He fought me pretty hard until I had him on the floor. Oh, he was scared, then.” Kenny’s eyes were gleaming as if he was seeing it happen all over again. “I tore off his top to tie up his hands. No need for his legs, I was just spreading those,” he added with a laugh. Jean was so flooded with rage that he couldn't even move. “He told me he was a virgin, begged me not to touch him. Fuck, it was the hottest thing I've ever seen.”

               “You fucking animal,” Jean growled, chest rising and falling quickly. “You fucking sick piece of—”

               “Then I took off his skirt. He started screaming then, shit he was scared. Fucking terrified. So I spread his pretty little legs and ripped open those sexy fishnets.” Kenny winked. “That's when he started crying for you.”

               Jean couldn't think. He could barely even feel anything other than unadulterated hatred. He was gripping the table so tightly that the metal was starting to cut into his hands.

               “But that's nothing compared to when I fucked him. The way he screamed when I shoved my dick up his ass.” Jean cringed. He could still hear that scream echoing in his ears. More like an ungodly screech, ripe with pure pain. “The kid’s body went limp for a second, he might've passed out. But don't worry, he was back to crying and screaming your name in a heartbeat.” Kenny kept laughing. What was so _fucking_  funny?! “I bet you've always wanted to hear that. Just wish it wasn't because of someone else’s cock.”

               That made Jean angrier than anything else. But it also made him afraid to be angry. Because it was _true_ , he _did_  want to make Armin cry out his name. But not like _that_. He wanted Armin's first time, and every time after, to be loving and consensual even if it had to be with fucking _Jaeger!_

               “After that, he started bleeding all over my dick. Must've hurt like a bitch because he started screaming even louder. You know, I thought he'd get tired. But clearly I underestimated the stamina of a honeypot. He screamed his head off all the way until I came in his virgin cunt.”

               He couldn't take it anymore. Jean flew across the table, first cracking across Kenny’s face. Huffing and snorting like an animal, he wiped at his eyes only to realize he had started crying.

               “Did that help, tough guy? You feel all better now about what I did to your girlfriend?” Kenny sneered as blood dribbled from his nose.

               “You fucking son of a _bitch!”_  Jean roared. His hand was going numb from the first blow, probably broken, but his fist flew again and again. “Monsters like you should just stay in hell!” Left, right, left, right, he exchanged hands as blood splattered across his knuckles.

               The door finally burst open. It took Captain Levi and Chief Erwin to drag Jean out of the room, snarling and snapping like a crazed dog. “Let me go, let me _go!_ I'm going to fucking kill him!” Jean roared, twisting and kicking viciously.

               “Should we sedate him?” Erwin murmured.

               “Just handcuff him ‘till he calms down,” Levi replied, staring back in disgust at his uncle covered in blood.

               “Let me go so I can make him _fucking_  pay!” Jean bellowed as he was shoved down into one of the hallway chairs.

               “Sure, right after Jaeger and Ackerman,” Levi muttered, clicking the handcuffs shut. Something about the sarcasm in his voice made Jean’s chest burn even more.

               He pulled against the cuffs viciously, ignoring how it cut into his flesh. _You can't escape. Calm down,_  some lost, logical part of his mind commanded. But the rest of him screamed for revenge, for blood, of one final act of unimaginable rage. _I have to kill Kenny. For Armin. I have to._  He was convinced, every muscle tensed and ready for a fight. His hand throbbed even harder now, but it felt more like an eagerness for Kenny’s fucking face than any sort of pain.

               But as he fought and snarled like a caged beast, Jean began to realize no one was about to uncuff him. The gushing waterfall of, _I have to, I have to, I have to,_  slowly trickled down into a steady stream. He remembered to inhale deeply, focusing on his roaring pulse.

               Once he had his breathing under control, it became easier to think logically. His fingers still craved to be wrapped around Kenny’s throat, but he knew that was impossible. _They’re probably guarding him because they knew I'd react like this..._ he realized. And then he was ashamed.

               What would killing that bastard do? What difference would it make? _Do I want to kill him for Armin or myself?_  The rage in his gut began shifting into an even heavier guilt. It really was all his fault. Kenny’s death wouldn't change that.

               And why was he sitting there feeling sorry for himself? Armin was the one who had to live with the consequences! Jean swallowed hard. _Armin…_  Several tears began sliding down his face.

               “You done?” Levi asked blandly, key in hand.

               “Yeah,” Jean croaked, “I’m done.”

               As he was let go, Levi added, “Go get your wrists checked out before they get infected.” Jean realized that was his way of saying to go check on Armin. What other excuse did he have to go back to the infirmary?

               “Yes sir,” Jean murmured, bowing his head. He didn't know whether to rush or drag his feet on the way back to Armin's room. Worried, concerned, there was no word that could even begin to describe how much he felt for his partner.

               But there was also fear. Fear at what he would find, what Armin would say, what he would do. Jean tried to think of what he would open with, but his mind went horrifically blank. _Should_  he even say anything? _Hey Armin, sorry about the whole rape thing. I'll try harder next time!_ There was no possible apology in existence that could sound sincere.

               But before he knew it, he was standing in front of Armin's room. “I'm sorry,” he tested aloud. _No, definitely not,_  he thought, shaking his head. “How are you feeling?” That didn't work either, sounded too evasive considering what had happened.

 _Guess I'll know what to say when I see him,_ Jean decided, and with a deep breath, knocked twice and opened the door.

               He barely saw Armin laid out in the hospital bed before Mikasa was rising to meet him. But then a green blur was slamming into him with the force of a semi truck.

               He grunted as his back was slammed into the hall wall, grabbing at the fist digging into his shirt. He gasped when he stared directly into bright green eyes. ” _Worthless sack of shit.”_  Eren’s voice was downright demonic.

 _Please, Eren, I can explain,_  he wanted to beg even though he really couldn't. Before he could get a word out, Eren drove his knee into his groin. Jean tasted bile, gagging violently as his vision went black. But when he lurched over, Eren grabbed his skull, driving his face into his knee savagely.

               ” _I fucking knew you couldn't protect him!”_  Jean slumped to the ground as Eren began driving his shoe into his gut over and over. ” _I'm going to tear you to fucking pieces! You let this happen to him, you useless son of a bitch!”_

               Then Mikasa was there, pulling Eren away much too slowly for Jean to think she really wanted to stop him. She stared down at him with the disgust of stepping in dog shit as she held her brother back. “You have some fucking nerve showing back up here,” Mikasa stated bluntly. Each word stung Jean to the core.

               “I have a right to see him, he's my partner.” Whatever assertive tone he was going for fell flat, swamped down by guilt and pain. It was hard to sound intimidating after getting the shit beaten out of him. _At least I'm already in the hospital._

               ” _Was_  your partner,” Mikasa corrected, and Jean’s heart leapt into his throat. “Who knows if he'll even stay after this? Psych hasn't evaluated him yet. We don't even know if he'll be cleared to stay. If he wants to.”

               In a strange way, Jean almost wanted to thank her for telling him as much as she did. But it was obviously not for his benefit. She just wanted to hurt him. He couldn't even be mad.

               Rising to his feet, Jean opened his mouth, closed it, and opened it again. “Look. I know. I fucked up.” He didn't know where he was going with this but he couldn't stop now. “I’d be surprised if he ever forgives me—and I don't expect him to! Fuck, I don't _want_  him to! You guys don't have to either—shouldn't—” he grimaced, “won't. But I...I…” Was this even making any difference? It was like pleading to a jury that he was innocent with the blood still on his hands.

               “Jean?” a soft voice cut in from the hospital room. Everyone froze.

               “I...I think he wants to see me,” Jean dared. He stepped toward the room cautiously, switching direct eye contact between Eren and Mikasa as he went. It felt as though if he looked at one too long, the other would pounce. They certainly never peeled their vengeful eyes off of him.

               It didn't go how he had planned at all. Jean imagined himself striding into the room purposefully, slinging purple prose that magically healed the whole situation.

               In reality, he inched into the room awkwardly, looking at the floor, the ceiling, anything that wasn't Armin.

               But he could hear genuine relief in Armin's voice as he repeated, “Jean!” His voice was a harsh rasp, but it was unmistakably excited.

               With a shuddering breath and Eren and Mikasa's eyes on his every move, Jean moved to Armin's side. His partner had an IV in his wrist and an oximeter clamped to his finger, but that was the extent of the wires trailing off his body. _Gotta be grateful for that. I guess…_

               His cheek was starting to bruise from where he had hit the floor, but other than the hospital room itself, there was no sign anything had ever gone wrong. _What was I expecting?_ Jean couldn't help but wonder in shame. All of Armin’s surgery was internal, there was nothing he was going to see. _Then why am I looking so hard?!_

               Whatever he wanted, he found in Armin's eyes. They were glossy and bright—artificially so. They were China doll-bright, shining but empty. Jean realized Armin's pupils were perpetually dilated, and then he understood. The IV was no doubt a morphine drip.

 _Fuck. That's how much pain he's in?!_ There was no real reason to be so shocked. Judging by how he screamed, Jean shouldn't have been surprised. His stomach lurched as he watched Armin stare straight through him. _How much did he hurt you, Armin?_

               “Jean,” Armin said hoarsely, reaching out as if he couldn't believe his partner was real. Jean took his hand obligingly, eyes starting to burn. With a surreal, dazed smile, he rasped, “you came to get me.”

               Something shifted in Jean’s chest. The tears broke loose down his face, and he gripped Armin's hand even tighter. “Yeah, I did, I did come to get you.”

…

               Jean’s palms were sweaty as his footsteps echoed in the hospital corridor. The crinkling of the bag in his hands sounded a hundred times louder than it should have, and an unreasonable amount of adrenaline was pumping through his body.

               Eren had only jumped him the first time, but Jean reacted like this each day on his way to visit Armin. He tried to keep his visits short, to avoid another confrontation and for Armin's sake. His partner had been so drugged up that not much conversation was possible anyway.

 _This time is different._  Jean grabbed the bag even harder and swallowed anxiously. They had taken him off painkillers completely, which meant he'd be capable of holding a real conversation. _And anger,_  Jean’s mind added nervously. He hated himself so much, Jean could barely begin to think how he'd handle Armin's contempt.

               But again, he was at Armin's room all too soon. _Whatever happens, I deserve it,_  Jean thought, and opened the door.

               Armin was sitting up in bed, staring out the window. Eren had been seated beside him, already rising defensively. Jean just cleared his throat before he was tackled again.

               “Armin?” he called nervously as Eren's eyes narrowed. “Armin?” His partner’s head swiveled at the second try, lips parting in surprise. Jean flinched back, ready for a barrage of blame and insults.

               Instead, Armin's first words were, “What's all that for?”

               Jean glanced down at the food in his hand as if just noticing it for the first time. He placed it on Armin's bed gracelessly, mumbling, “You said you uh...you wanted tacos when...when you got back...so…”

               They stared at each other silently.

               “Hey Eren, can you give Jean and I a minute?” Armin asked gently.

               ” _A minute,_ ” he growled. “Say the word and I'll be back in a second, Armin. I'll—”

               “Thank you Eren, I believe you.”

               He left, the door shutting behind him. More silence.

               “...I got you, um...extra chicken...like always….” _Oh my fucking god Eren should've knocked me out when he had the chance._

               Armin just let a little half-smile grow on his face, opening up the bag. “I had forgotten about that,” he murmured to himself, and then looked back up with a much brighter grin. “Thank you, Jean, this is really sweet of you.” His words sounded honest, but Jean could tell any happiness was shallow at best. Armin's eyes looked dead in a way Jean had only seen in nightmares. They were murky and clouded and so _empty_. It made him so sick he almost ran for the restroom.

               But Jean stayed. More fucking silence.

               “So,” he stated awkwardly, “how are you doing?”

               A smaller smile blossomed across Armin's face, and if Jean hadn't known him, he would've thought it was genuine. “As well as I can be,” he replied pleasantly, food untouched.

               “That's good, I gue—” Jean started, then stopped himself. _That’s bullshit. I'm not playing along._ “You know what? Fuck that, Armin,” he blurted much more forcefully than he meant to. But there was something so _infuriating_ about Armin's perfect composure, even now. “You know you don't have to fake a smile for me. It's _me_ , Armin! I want to know how you're _really_ feeling!”

               “I'm fine,” Armin replied insistently, but Jean just glared at him. “I will be,” he added, exasperated. “Eventually. Just let me talk about it when I'm ready, okay?”

               “And when will that be?” Jean asked earnestly. But Armin snapped.

               “Who knows!” Armin covered half of his face with his hand. “Did you know long I was in surgery? _Three hours.”_  He let out a high, dry laugh. “It took them three days just to take me off _morphine_.” Jean was staring as Armin kept going. “It could be a week, maybe two before I can even _leave_. When do you _think_ I'll be ready?!”

               Jean’s eyes welled with tears and Armin let out a shuddering sigh.

               “Sorry. I'm sorry. I...I don't know why I'm yelling at you,” he muttered. But Jean just felt his pain grow.

               “No, no, Armin—shit, you don't have to apologize! Not to me, not to anyone! I—it's okay to be upset, y’know?” He grimaced at his words. Not exactly the most uplifting, but it was the best he could do.

               “I'll be fine,” Armin repeated, and there was a coldness in each word that made Jean’s heart sink.

               “I just…” Jean began, taking a seat on the bed. He started over, “Look, Armin. I know there's a lot of pressure around here but...but no one’s expecting you to be fine after...that…”

               “You can say it,” Armin replied bitterly, scowling at his lap.

               Jean cringed slightly. He wasn't the most socially adept, but something told him not to take up Armin's offer. “It's just that...don't listen to what anyone might say, alright?” Holding his breath, Jean grabbed Armin's hand. “It's okay to not be okay.”

               Armin said nothing. In a way that shook him more than any sort of reply he could've gotten. _This is all my fault._  “A-and, Armin?” His throat was closing in on itself, all of a sudden he couldn't talk, why was it so hard to breathe?! “I. I. I'm. I'm so—”

               “Don't,” Armin cut in bluntly. “If I don't get to apologize, neither do you.”

               “Right. You're right. Sor—yeah.” Armin hadn't been looking at him for a while now, but now Jean couldn't look at his partner anymore either. _Shit. Fucking stupid. I'm just making this about myself again. Armin. What does Armin need?_  How did he even begin to answer that question?

               Armin shifted in bed uncomfortably. “You really don't have to worry about me, alright?” He gave Jean’s hand a reassuring squeeze. “Psych should evaluate me in the next few days, I'll be released, and be back in the field in no time.” This time his smile was tired. “Everything will work out. It'll be right back to the way it was before.”

               Jean’s eyes widened. That seemed wrong, sounded wrong, _felt_  wrong. And he realized why: that was impossible. He let go of Armin's hand and grabbed his shoulders tightly.

               Armin finally looked back into his eyes, staring in confusion and surprise. “Armin, that...that's not possible.” Jean gritted his teeth but he had to force the words out. “We can't just… _go back_ to the way we were before. We're just...we're not the same people anymore. _You’re_  not.” _Fuck I'm making zero sense right now._ “I know it sounds crazy but I'm not, I swear. What happened...what happened _changed_  us. Not for the better. Not for the worst. It just _changed_. It’s okay if you need help coming to terms with that. _Fuck_ , I don't know if I'll pass my eval and I just…” _I just listened to it._  He shook his head, angry that he was making it about himself again. Jean decided to take Armin's offer—challenge?—after all. “Armin, you were _raped_. That's not something people just bounce right back from. Hear me when I say I'm here for you—we _all_ are.”

               Armin was still staring. But his mouth slowly closed, and his lower lip began trembling. Jean winced as Armin’s grip on his hand grew crushing, and tears started lacing his eyes. “Jean,” he choked out.

               “Don't just say you're ‘fine’. Ask for help because I _want_ to be here for you. I wasn't when I should have been. Let me _try_ to make that up to you. I owe it to you. As my partner, and my best friend.”

               “I…” Armin sounded like a small child. Jean had never seen him look so lost. And with a voice that was nearly silent, he whispered, “Okay.”

**Author's Note:**

> Tell me what you thought in the comments, I really enjoyed writing this fic!  
> (I know I have others in progress but shhhhh)


End file.
